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I shrugged.Yep, I know.
Daniel appeared and looked over my shoulder with one hand on his hip, watching my every move.
‘Come on, woman.’ Daniel clapped his hands in my face. ‘You’ve got to be fast in a kitchen.’
I tied up the bin bag, and just as I was about to walk outside, Daniel stopped me in my tracks again.
‘Squash these boxes while you’re at it,’ he said as he piled ten cardboard boxes on top of my arms, all the way up to my chin.
I used my chin to balance the boxes and let them fall to the ground when I reached the bin area. The time it took to walk out the back, chuck the rubbish, and flatten the boxes left me a measly four minutes to spare. I didn’t see the point in sittingdown, so I headed back into the kitchen.You won, Daniel, yet again.
When I returned to my station, there was a latte in a glass sitting on the bench. I looked down at the artwork – a heart patterned on the froth. The intense aroma filled my nose, making my mouth water.Oh, Deb, your coffees are to die for.I smiled, then took a sip as the heat warmed my clammy hands. Vanilla latte.Mmm.A mix of sweet and bitter hit my tongue, and I swear that drink was the highlight of my day. It was delicious.
‘Did you enjoy your coffee?’ Daniel asked as he stood in the doorway.
‘Yes, it was perfect. Tell Deb I said thanks.’ I wiped the froth from my lips with a napkin.
He raised his brows. ‘Deb?’ He laughed. ‘Oh, I see. You think Deb made you that coffee. Well, no, it was me actually.’ He crossed his arms, back in serious mode.
‘Top job.’ I smiled.
This man is so confusing – one minute he’s being a complete arsehole, and the next, he’s making me coffee with hearts?It was a love-hate relationship at its finest, with a tad more hate than love.
As soon as 6pm hit, we were flat-out. The waitstaff paced in and out and hung docket after docket in the kitchen. I had five takeaway orders to create and ten pizzas for dine-ins. The stress was building, and the more I panicked, the faster I moved and the more damp with sweat my back became.
Once I’d rolled out the dough balls into bases, I placed them on round, wooden pizza boards, which were already sprinkled with semolina. God knows who named a food ‘semolina’ when a sickness was called ‘salmonella’.
Within minutes, twenty pizza bases were ready to go.Okay, I got this. I can do this. I took a deep breath and clapped the excess flour from my hands into the bin.
We got slammed. I must have made over one hundred pizzas on my own; Kelly had to take over desserts and dishes solo, while Martin took care of the grill and fryer, and Paul did the tricky stuff.
By 9.30pm, the restaurant was dead, and it was finally closing time. Paul was out the door ten minutes later, leaving us to clean the kitchen.
Martin reluctantly cleaned out the dishwasher while Kelly finished wiping the benches. I cleaned the floor (which, to be honest, I’d always kind of enjoyed – there was something satisfying about a squeegee mop). Martin gave Kelly and me a scornful stare every chance he got, like it was our fault Daniel was trying to save money and didn’t want Joel on. Ugh. God, he could be such a child. He felt superior being sous chef, and even though Kelly was too, cleaning a dishwasher was beneath him. I bet he was just pissed about me not wanting to be called ‘Pinky’. That was Martin for you – he would let his anger develop over the course of several hours and then death-stare you when he was pissed off. Not much of a verbal abuser, at least.
Once we finished cleaning, everyone clocked their hours. I wrote ‘11am to 10:15pm’on my timesheet.
I said farewell to everyone, the mood in the kitchen finally a little lighter as everyone was done for the night, then left and hopped into my car, waiting for Deb to come out of the bathroom. Five minutes later, she strolled out with a lit cigarette in her mouth. Behind her was Victor. I heard a muffle of laughter exchange between them and watched through my rear-view mirror as they hugged. Victor kissed Deb on the cheek and waved to me, then jumped onto his Vespa.
Deb stomped out her cigarette, then plopped into the car and stretched her arms as she yawned. She smelt like a sweaty ashtray with a smidge of patchouli perfume.
‘Come on. Let’s hit the road. I’m completely wrecked.’ She fanned her breasts with her shirt while her forehead dripped with beads of sweat. Her under-eyes were flecked with mascara.
‘Me too. What should we get for dinner?’ I asked as I started the car so the air con could blast.
‘You should have made us one of your pizzas.’
‘I’ve had enough of pizza for the night.’ I laughed.
She laughed too. ‘No wonder your legs are so great.’ She eyed my pins. ‘Maybe if I worked as fast as you, my thighs would be half their size.’ She let out a sigh as she looked down at her thick legs. ‘Hey, I got an idea. Why don’t you cook us crispy salmon with your peppery butter sauce?’
We were lucky that my younger brother kept us stocked up on seafood from the fish market he worked at, which came in handy when all the shops were closed.
‘Sure. I think I’ve got some salmon already defrosted in the fridge.’ I turned on the lights and reversed out of the car park.
I half-turned to Deb while watching the road. ‘Daniel was acting extra-arsehole today. I was on a ten-minute break, and he was like,“Oh, Naomi, can you take out the bin?”When the bin wasn’t even full! And he gave me a stack of boxes to flatten. Like, who does that? Seriously. He does not appreciate his staff.’ I flicked my indicator and veered left.
Deb didn’t say anything, not even looking up from her phone.
